Tom laughed. The matter-of-fact at this moment was very refreshing.
“I hope you will redeem your promise to rescue Mr. Schwab,” the envoy continued. “He has been a great joy to me in my captivity.”
“Oh yes, we’ll get him. We shall drop you in a few minutes. You will not mind being left for a little while?”
“Not at all, not at all. I find the air and the motion most invigorating. I have lately been very conscious of the inconvenience of having a nose.”
Tom did not know, though Oliphant suspected, that Sir Mark’s cool manner was adopted intentionally—to ease the strain on their nerves. A man is not trained to diplomacy for nothing. He kept up a quiet flow of nothings until the hill was reached.
“A very airy situation,” he remarked, as he was set down on the hill-top.
“Yes. You’ll find it cold,” said Tom. “Here’s my coat.”
“Thanks. Having escaped asphyxia, it would certainly be a pity to contract pneumonia. You look quite comfortable yourself: the Moorish djellab is a very warm garment, I should think.”
He put on Tom’s reefer, which had lain in a corner of the car. Then Tom sent the airship aloft again, and hurried back to the kasbah.